Baskerville High
by trenzaloki
Summary: John needs to find a way to deal with the annoying boy who calls himself "Sherlock" and sits behind him in class.
1. Chapter 1

"Please pass your homework up to the first person in your row," the teacher droned.

John turned slightly to reach for the homework of the boy behind him. He was on his phone, as always. "William," John tried to get his attention, but he appeared distracted. "_William_," He tried again. Rolling his eyes, John gave up and passed up his homework without the William's.

The boy's harsh, icy blue eyes peered up from his cell phone to notice his homework still placed on his desk. He cleared his throat to get John's attention. John turned around with an annoyed look on his face and an annoyed tone of voice, "What is it?"

"I would_ appreciate_ it if you called me Sherlock, also, if you wouldn't _mind_ passing up my homework," the boy muttered with an incredible amount of attitude.

"Prick," John muttered under his breath as he yanked away this "Sherlock" boy's paper and shoved it onto the desk in front of him.

"Alright class, you can relax and have a chat for the last 5 minutes," the teacher announced. "Make sure to stay quiet."

John looked sheepishly around the classroom, the realization creeping up on him that he didn't have many friends, let alone any in the room. "Bored," he heard Sherlock say.

He knew that he was going to regret this as soon as he decided to do it, but he turned around and asked, "What's wrong."

"Humans are dull. Predictable. Meaningless. They are no fun. Too easy to figure out."

"And why _exactly_ are you trying to figure them out?"

"I try to figure them out because there is _absolutely_ nothing else to do. Do you even see the sort of entertainment you have? It's all _so_ predictable. I don't know how you people do it."

"I'm sorry, do what?"

"Survive" Sherlock leaned back in his chair with his pencil stuck mindlessly behind his ear, looking relaxed and bored at the same time.

"Oh, and you are _so_ much better than us, aren't you?" John said angrily, internally reminding himself that in about two minutes he could go home for the day.

"Yes, actually quite a bit better," Sherlock muttered, jabbing rapidly at buttons on his cell phone.

"You cock," John sighed as he turned away from Sherlock.

"Oh, what a shame," Sherlock whispered angrily, aware that John could hear him.

"Fuck," John muttered violently, standing up with his bag and storming out of the classroom. Before the teacher could call him back inside, he was out the door. The bell rang through the halls and students came pouring out of all the classrooms. He barreled through the mobs of people, walking directly towards the parking lot where his car was parked. _At least I don't have to deal with Sherlock 'I'm better than everyone' Holmes until Monday._ He reached his car and climbed inside, taking a moment to calm himself down after the previous incident. John was usually an extremely calm, down to earth person, but some people just made him lose his temper. Sherlock, obviously, was one of those people. He drove out of the parking lot and all the way home with Sherlock on his mind. Even though Sherlock was self-centered, arrogant, and inconsiderate, there was something about him that sparked an unexplainable desire in John.

* * *

Later that night, John got a text. "Let's talk -SH" it read. Confused for a moment, John realized that it had to have been Sherlock. But how? He hadn't given him his phone number, and none of his mates talk to Sherlock. John ignored the text, but it ate away at him all evening.

Finally he responded, "How did you get this number?"

Almost too quickly, Sherlock responded, "Irrelevant –SH"

"Are you aware of how infuriating you can be?"

"I don't see it –SH"

Turning his phone onto mute, he tossed it onto his bed and sat down at his desk to do schoolwork. After half an hour and only 2 completed math problems, he gave up and checked his phone.

"Hello? –SH"

"John –SH"

"I know you're there –SH"

_Obsessive much? _John thought as he put away his chemistry homework. _I'm tired. I'll just take a shower and go to bed. A weekend to relax. That's just what I need right now. _

John didn't know then, but that was the opposite of what would come to happen.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock sprang awake as he did every morning. Patting on his bed, he called his dog. Redbeard, his dog, was the only thing that could make Sherlock a little less… Sherlock. At least that's what his brother Mycroft and their parents said. Almost immediately after waking up, Sherlock picked up his phone to check for messages from John. There were none, but he knew John had seen them. He hopped in the shower quickly, then got dressed in black pants and his favorite purple button-down shirt. Rushing down the stairs and into the kitchen where his family was already eating, Sherlock grabbed his coat off the wall. As he passed through the front door he yelled back into the house, "I'm going out." His family didn't know where he was going, but they were used to their quirky son.

A few minutes earlier, John had also awoken. His family was already out of the house, leaving him alone to get ready as he pleased. He had a craving for tea and some nice biscuits, but there was no way he was cooking. He slipped on the first pair of pants he could find, pulled on one of his favorite cable-knit sweaters, and grabbed his school bad before he headed out to the local ,

Once he was halfway there, it started raining, causing John to dash quickly between overhangs on the sides of the buildings. Rushing into the cafe, Paul, the owner and a friend of John's, said, "That's some nasty rain without an umbrella. How about a hot cup of tea. The usual?"

"Yes please. Also some biscuits please." John handed Paul the money and walked over to his usual seat in the back corner where nobody could watch over his shoulder. Sitting in the booth drinking tea, however, was Sherlock._ Damn, _John thought. "Sherlock, what are you doing here."

"What do you think? I'm waiting for you of course. _Obviously _you didn't answer my texts.

"Yeah, I was busy. And how did you get my number?"

Sherlock sighed, "People. Always focusing on the little details. So much that you don't realize what's right in front of you."

"What. What's right in front of me." John was annoyed.

"An adventure, of course."

"Yeah, no adventures for me, thanks. Now if you could just leave that would be gre-"

He was interrupted, "No. Why would I leave? Please, sit down."

John rolled his eyes and sat on the other side of the booth from Sherlock. At the same time, Paul walked over with John's tea and biscuits. "Here you go. You two boys enjoy," Paul said.

"I don't understand why you suddenly started talking to me. Don't you have other friends that... you know... like you?"

"Dull. They worship me, it's really no fun."

"Let me get this straight. You got tired of your friends because they like you, and you are following me because i don't like you? That doesn't exactly seem like the best logic."

"Everything I do is logical. Am i to blame if people don't understand? Look, I like you John, and that doesn't happen often."

John would never admit it, but he felt the slightest feeling of butterflies in his stomach when he heard Sherlock say that. Maybe when Sherlock was annoying him, it was only to make John attracted to him. John responded, "Look, that isn't my problem. You can just go on your merry way and leave me alone. Got it? _Alone._"

Sherlock was sobbing. Well, sobbing on the inside. John really did not want to get to know him. On the outside he looked just as normal as ever. "Alright," Sherlock said, "I'll be on my way now. Enjoy your tea, John." He walked out of the cafe and didn't see John again until Monday.

John was still sitting in the booth, so he pulled out his laptop to begin working on an assingment. An hour later, he still found himself checking out the window of the cafe every time he finished a sentence, almost hoping that Sherlock would come back. Remembering that he had to be at to work in nearly an hour, John packed up his things, and left the cafe.

As he entered his home, he dropped his bag near the door and jogged up the stairs. Just as John entered his room and went to his wardrobe to get his work uniform, he stopped. Sherlock was sitting comfortably on his bed, legs crossed and resting on the footboard. "Hello John," he said after he lowered his book away from his face.

"SHERLOCK," John shouted, "What the _hell_ are you doing here!?" Recoiling back from the initial shock, he grabbed onto the dresser to keep from falling over.

"Oh, you know," he mumbled mindlessly, "the usual."

"How the _hell_ is this usual?"

Sighing, Sherlock spun around on John's bed so that his legs hung off the side. "I meant that I'm bored. Everything you have is boring."

"Oh really, how interesting, I wonder if you could tell me more about how you-," he began sarcastically, "_GET OUT," _he yelled.

"Seriously, would you think about getting something to actually _do_ in here. All your books are mediocre at best and your laptop, besides a few startling webpages, was incredibly dull."

"Sherlock. I swear to God, if you do not leave my house right now, I am calling the police."

"Fine, I'll go." He spun off the bed. "Gay porn? Really? I didn't know you were that kind of perso-"

"OUT!"

Sherlock walked out of the room, but popped his head back in just to wink at John. _What the fuck was that psychopath doing here? _John collapsed on his bed, head in his hands, attempting to keep himself from acting on his anger. Just at that moment, he got a text.

"Johnnyyyy be at the field near the school in half an hour. Bring food"

He assumed it was his friend Alec. Well, friend-ish. It was more of a one sided friendship. They usually only talked when John had nothing better to do that day. When John considered the offer, he decided that he might actually go today. It seemed like the right thing to do to get his mind off of Sherlock. John glanced at his alarm clock. 3:30. If he left now and walked, he'd be there by 3:55.

He got up off his bed, turned his iPod on to some random song, grabbed his coat and left.

Somewhere along his route, John stopped at a little cafe and bought some food, remembering that Alec had asked for it.

When he neared the field where he was meeting the Alec, he saw two out of place looking teengers. One had curly black hair and wore a long black coat, while the other wore a three piece suit and had a cane and- _Damnit Sherlock. How the fuck are you everywhere I go?_

Sherlock turned around to see John walking towards him.

"Oh, John, what a surprise," Sherlock faked. "How could I possibly have known you'd be here."

"Fuck, Sherlock, how did you-"

"Oh, it was simple, I knew you'd want to get out of the house after our encounter earlier, and from some more startling details in your room, it was clear you would be here. Simple, really."

"I have an honest question for you."

"I would hope you did."

"Do you _ever_ shut up and realize that you can't just do the things you do? You can't just be waiting for me in my own house, uninvited. You can't just go through my laptop. You can't do these things."

"Trust me," his brother Mycroft interjected, "we _all_ wish he would shut his mouth from time to time. And by time to time, I mean all of the time."

"I don't see why people like you would object to listening to somebody smarter than you."

"It makes them feel insignificant, Sherlock," Mycroft said.

"People," Sherlock huffed. "Give me a murder and I'll solve it in minutes, but no matter how much I try, I cannot get the handle of dealing with people. I'll take that," Sherlock snatched the bag of food John was carrying. "Somebody forgot to get us lunch."

Mycroft ignored Sherlock's final statement and remarked condescendingly, "Sherlock, all those 'murders' you solved. You do realize that none of them were real." He turned to John, "He imagines up a murder mystery then solves it. Ridiculous I think, but it shuts him up for a few minutes, so why not? But oh, the cockiness when he solves it. Unbearable."

"Uh... great. Look, I've got to meet some people," he paused, "You two just... get your shit together." John left as quickly as he could.

"Wait," Mycroft called.

"What is it?" John said angrily.

"They aren't there."

"Who?"

"Your friends."

"How do you know?"

Mycroft glared at Sherlock, "_Somebody_ thought that texting you through somebody else's phone would be the best way to get you here."

"Really, Sherlock," he yelled. "And you. Why do you let him do this?"

"Tried stopping him for years. He's hopeless. Not too smart either."

"_I'm the smart one,"_ Sherlock mocked Mycroft

"I _am_ the smart one, Sherlock," Mycroft said. John didn't think he had seen anybody say anything with as much sass as Mycroft did.

"So my friends aren't there."

"Nope."

"You dicks." John turned and walked past the brothers again, only this time he was heading back home.

"Somebody needs to think of some more polite farewells," Mycroft said while John was still in earshot.

John rolled his eyes and walked away quickly.

"Mind if I take some of that," Mycroft asked Sherlock, though it was hardly a question, as he reached towards the bread his brother was holding.

Sherlock spun around, his coat waving theatrically behind him, and began the walk home.

Reluctantly, Mycroft followed, but only until they entered their own neighborhood. Then he went to the library to read up on some lesser known romantic poets, leaving Sherlock safely at home.


End file.
